Incredible
Dec. 3rd, 2007 01:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeesnob318Generally cross-posted from myspace, because I'm too lazy to think of new ways to say the same thing.
It is slowly seeping into my hard head that I have a rough draft of a novelette on my flash drive (and in my gmail... and on the hard drive at school... because I'm paranoid). On the one hand, I have this grand sense of accomplishment. This is the fourth year that I've tried NaNoWriMo, but it's the first year that I've finished. So reaching a goal is exciting. And it's really something to churn out that many words in a month. Most real writers don't even write their rough drafts that quickly. And I'm looking forward to Friday evening, when I have a date with my novel and a bottle of wine (the consumption of which will be directly proportional to the current crappiness of the novelette). I'm excited to see how I've done, and I'm proud (regardless of how necessary the bottle of wine turns out to be) of what I've done. And I appreciate all of you who have encouraged me in this insane endeavor and those of you who would have if you had known what I was endeavoring to do.
On the other hand, I am concerned that the writing of this particular story (not to mention the approaching reading of said story) has been a contributor to this incredible sadness of late. I know in my head that sadness is a part of life, but when do you say, "Enough?" And how? Most of the time, it manifests as a restlessness, spurring me to do, create, run, wash, fix, finish, go. Turns out, my blues are active. Other times, all I'm spurred to do is sleep (or, more accurately, lie in bed, pissed off that I want to sleep and can't). All of the time, I am second-guessing myself - what could I have said or done to have avoided it? If I had spoken up earlier, how would it have been different? If I had danced (actually danced, not a country music metaphor), would it be the same? If I had actually had the conversations that I've had in my mind and in my story, would the real outcome have mirrored the outcome there? If I had only performed better, would I be more lovable? How is all this crap all my fault? And how, knowing that (or, rather, believing that), can I possibly foresee anything and break this apparent cycle?
About an hour after I originally wrote the previous paragraph, the winds changed a little. People who have known me for any amount of time at all know me to have squirrely, overanalytical moments (and by "moments," I mean "personality"). Fortunately, most of them (and I) like that about me. Well, every story has at least two sides, and no analysis is complete without all of them. So here's the B side (I don't know what I'll call the third installment when it inevitably rears its head - I don't suppose there's any such thing as a C side, is there?).
I spend a lot of time entertaining questions like "What if I had said or done ___?" This indulgence is probably a large part of why I don't sleep a lot. But these aren't necessarily regrets - just wonderings. I pretty much say and do what I want. The rare exceptions to my low level of self-monitoring occur when I choose something higher than my logical or emotional (or even a combination of the two) reaction. And higher turns out to be better than it may feel or look at the time.
There are some things swimming around in my head that the author and finisher of me are writing on my heart:
1. I am lovable and, by virtue of that concept, deserve a love not based on past, present, or perceived future performance. Loving me (or just love in general) is not about what I can do for you (that wasn't aimed at any of you, by the way).
2. Waiting is not passive. In fact, waiting may be the most productive thing I've ever done. And there's a reason that, in Spanish, "to wait" and "to hope" are the same word. Some days, I even understand what that reason is.
3. I like who I am. I am worth all of this. And that I can say that without disclaimer or apology is pretty incredible.
It is slowly seeping into my hard head that I have a rough draft of a novelette on my flash drive (and in my gmail... and on the hard drive at school... because I'm paranoid). On the one hand, I have this grand sense of accomplishment. This is the fourth year that I've tried NaNoWriMo, but it's the first year that I've finished. So reaching a goal is exciting. And it's really something to churn out that many words in a month. Most real writers don't even write their rough drafts that quickly. And I'm looking forward to Friday evening, when I have a date with my novel and a bottle of wine (the consumption of which will be directly proportional to the current crappiness of the novelette). I'm excited to see how I've done, and I'm proud (regardless of how necessary the bottle of wine turns out to be) of what I've done. And I appreciate all of you who have encouraged me in this insane endeavor and those of you who would have if you had known what I was endeavoring to do.
On the other hand, I am concerned that the writing of this particular story (not to mention the approaching reading of said story) has been a contributor to this incredible sadness of late. I know in my head that sadness is a part of life, but when do you say, "Enough?" And how? Most of the time, it manifests as a restlessness, spurring me to do, create, run, wash, fix, finish, go. Turns out, my blues are active. Other times, all I'm spurred to do is sleep (or, more accurately, lie in bed, pissed off that I want to sleep and can't). All of the time, I am second-guessing myself - what could I have said or done to have avoided it? If I had spoken up earlier, how would it have been different? If I had danced (actually danced, not a country music metaphor), would it be the same? If I had actually had the conversations that I've had in my mind and in my story, would the real outcome have mirrored the outcome there? If I had only performed better, would I be more lovable? How is all this crap all my fault? And how, knowing that (or, rather, believing that), can I possibly foresee anything and break this apparent cycle?
About an hour after I originally wrote the previous paragraph, the winds changed a little. People who have known me for any amount of time at all know me to have squirrely, overanalytical moments (and by "moments," I mean "personality"). Fortunately, most of them (and I) like that about me. Well, every story has at least two sides, and no analysis is complete without all of them. So here's the B side (I don't know what I'll call the third installment when it inevitably rears its head - I don't suppose there's any such thing as a C side, is there?).
I spend a lot of time entertaining questions like "What if I had said or done ___?" This indulgence is probably a large part of why I don't sleep a lot. But these aren't necessarily regrets - just wonderings. I pretty much say and do what I want. The rare exceptions to my low level of self-monitoring occur when I choose something higher than my logical or emotional (or even a combination of the two) reaction. And higher turns out to be better than it may feel or look at the time.
There are some things swimming around in my head that the author and finisher of me are writing on my heart:
1. I am lovable and, by virtue of that concept, deserve a love not based on past, present, or perceived future performance. Loving me (or just love in general) is not about what I can do for you (that wasn't aimed at any of you, by the way).
2. Waiting is not passive. In fact, waiting may be the most productive thing I've ever done. And there's a reason that, in Spanish, "to wait" and "to hope" are the same word. Some days, I even understand what that reason is.
3. I like who I am. I am worth all of this. And that I can say that without disclaimer or apology is pretty incredible.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-12-03 08:28 am (UTC)Waiting is not passive. Your right about that. Well... It may be at first. But... after a certain amount of time 'waiting' is cowardly ( This is NOT aimed at you. You are not a coward!!!!).
I am dieing to see you again and just hang out. We aren't far from each other. Please lets make a date. Even if it's just to have a marahton session :P
no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 01:30 pm (UTC)I think cowardly waiting isn't actually waiting but just avoidance in denial. I'm learning that waiting is about being particular and not settling for what's easiest.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 01:31 pm (UTC)Thanks. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-12-03 11:57 am (UTC)*smile*
*Indeed.*
no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-03 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-04 02:44 am (UTC)Second, I kinda get what your saying. It's somehow seeping into my tired brain. :D
no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 01:33 pm (UTC)You should try it next year. It took me four years trying to finally finish one, but even trying helped my writing a lot.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-03 03:36 pm (UTC)